The White Wolf's Son by Michael Moorcock Page A

cottage a resemblance to a human face. I had
     never seen anything quite like it and wasn’t even surprised when the windows opened suddenly to reveal two huge blue eyes.
     Then the door creaked and the house began to speak.
    My instinct was to run. I seemed to be able to take a talking fox in my stride, but not a house which behaved like a human
     head.
    “Good evening, child,” said the house in a severe feminine voice.
    Lord Renyard’s paw steadied me, but my voice was shaking when I replied. “G-good evening—um— ma’am.”
    “I heard you were in the city. Did your friend the fox explain who I am?”
    “N-no, ma’am, h-he d-didn’t.”
    “You are not dreaming, at least no more than the rest of us dream, there being no such thing as one particular reality. We
     pass through the multiverse as best we can, using whatever logic we can, understanding what is possible for us to understand.
     You are surprised that a house can speak. I would be surprised, for instance, by a boxwhich showed me events on the far side of the world as they happened, yet you take such a phenomenon for granted, if I am
     not mistaken.”
    “You’re not mistaken, ma’am. That’s television.”
    “I have spoken of them with other visitors. But I did not ask my friend Lord Renyard to bring you here to discuss the nature
     of realities. I wanted to tell you that you are in considerable danger.”
    “Klosterheim? Is he close?”
    “You have been in danger since the day you were born. You carry fated blood, you see. You carry a power. Have you ever heard
     of the Graal Staff?”
    “No—um—Miss …”
    “You may call me Mrs. House. I am famous locally as an oracle and have occupied this spot, off and on, for five or six thousand
     years, though I think the time is coming due when I must move again.” Her windows closed for a moment, as if in thought. “I
     might have to found my own city…”
    “Thank you, Mrs. House.”
    “You have not heard of the Blood, yet you are the virgin your enemies believe is destined to carry it. Whether you keep it
     or not is not yet decided.”
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. House. You’ll have to explain a bit more.”
    “Oracles aren’t especially adept at explanations,” she said almost apologetically. “We are best at large predictions, especially
     if we are bound to one place, as I am so frequently bound.”
    “Why should I be singled out to take charge of some blood?” I asked.
    She seemed almost impatient with me. “If you find theBlood, you or someone you decide upon must take it home and keep it safe forever.”
    “But I can’t find my home. That’s the problem!”
    “Solving one problem will solve both. The Blood is the blind boy. One will reveal the other.”
    “Can I find my home first?”
    “You will find it eventually, of that I am certain. Unless they put you and the blind boy together. If that happens, you could
     easily die in terrible circumstances. You must make it your business for them not to catch you.”
    “Catch me? Who do you mean …?”
    “Those who know only the secret of the Blood and the Stone but not their function.”
    My heart was beating so hard that I was short of breath. I think I had begun to cry. “Tell me who wants to hurt me,” I begged.
    Her expression quickly became sympathetic. Her roses rustled quietly.
    “One, as you know, is called Klosterheim,” she declared. “He is here already. But the other is more fearsome. The creature
     with whom Klosterheim habitually travels. Yes, I see him. Once the greatest Knight of the Balance, now a Prince of Chaos.
     Paul von Minct.” Again her window eyes closed as if in pain. “Ah! He has no face! He has too many faces! Beware of him. Seek
     your uncle in the fires of industry!”
    And suddenly her eyes closed, and I was looking at an ordinary little country house again, with a rather shaken fox motioning
     for us to leave. I took his offered paw.
    “Sometimes, my dear,” he said as he led me out of